Snap!
by paisleydice
Summary: In which Arthur has a wonderful day, and Eames comes along just to spoil it. warning! here there be  mild  slash!  rated T for Tom Hardy's foul mouth
1. Breakdown

authors notes: HEY THERE! before you read this please bear in mind this is my first ever fic, so please review and be nice (but of course constructive criticism is always welcome as I do actually want to improve)  
I may be making this a two parter, or more, if there's enough interest. so shoot me a review if you'd like a continuation (though I'll probably do it anyway) and I'll try and get the next part out as soon as possible  
dedicated of course to lollymc, who bribed, bullied and physically abused me until I wrote this and put it online  
so yeah...hope you enjoy :)

Part 1: In which a day is ruined, and innocent watermelons are lost.

Today, Arthur decided, was a good day. His research on their latest mark: the figurehead of a major construction company – whose business rivals tended to go quietly but indefinitely missing - was nearing completion, crisp manila files containing everything there was to know about his family, friends, colleagues and suppliers lying resplendent in their colour coded glory on his desk. (Perfectly spaced and arranged in alphabetical order, of course).

Somewhere below the window a street performer was playing, and he could almost feel the weeks worth of tension slipping away as the dulcet tones of the single violin drifted past him, carried on the soft Parisian breeze. The only sound to be heard from within the warehouse was the rhythmic scratching of pencils as Ariadne got to work on planning the dreamscape they would be trying out in the morning (well, that and the occasional controlled explosion from the corner in which Yusuf was perfecting his latest concoction. But these were occurring less frequently as the day went on, and Arthur had long since become adept at ignoring them). The last, warm rays of afternoon sun played across the back of Arthur's neck as he leaned back in his chair and stretched languidly, hearing his joints creak as he did so. For the first time in a long, long while, he felt completely and utterly at peace.

"Oh Daarling! I'm hoooooome!"  
Urgh. _Eames_. How on earth had he forgotten that the only reason his day had been so perfect was because the insufferable Brit had been out doing whatever constituted 'research' in his bizarre and obscene little world. Arthur barely suppressed a groan at the sound of the forger ascending the stairs. If footsteps could be obnoxious those would be sat naked in his favorite chair, drinking cheap beer and insulting his mother.

Some of Arthur's despair must have shown on his face, because Eames was at his side within seconds of coming through the door.

"Christ pet, you look like someone just tried to set fire to your nan! If I'd known you'd miss me this much I never would've left the warehouse!"

Arthur scowled. "I did _not_ miss you Mr. Eames, quite the opposite in fact."  
"Of course love, whatever you say."

Eames held up a hand to stop Arthur's no doubt scathing comeback "Don't worry, I wont tell anyone how madly in love we are, how you secretly pine for my touch, we'll keep it to ourselves, just like all those love letters I found dotted around my work station"  
Great. Now the whole team was staring at them. Well, everyone except for Cobb - who was determinedly pretending not to notice, and Saito - who was trying to decide whether he should purchase a 5* hotel, or the island it was situated on. So far he was favoring the island. It seemed neater.  
Arthur just sighed at Eames's suggestive eyebrow waggle.

"Eames. _You_ wrote those. And then you left them around the warehouse in the hope that Cobb would find one and have some sort of aneurysm"

At this Cobb took a short break from his feigned disinterest, and attempted to look mildly affronted. Unfortunately, this resulted in a face that bore a surprising resemblance to this: -_-

Somewhere in the world, a puppy died.  
Eames, however, was positively scandalised.

"Why Arthur darling! how could you accuse me of such a thing! I demand to see some evidence!"  
"You spelt my name wrong. Twice. One time it was with an O. Who else on this team is even capable of that!"

Somewhere in the corner Yusuf let out a chuckle, Eames shot him a hurt look. "Now really pet, you cant keep trying to pass off your own problems onto somebody else, and you shouldn't expect perfect spelling if you will _insist_ upon writing whilst in the throes of passion."

Arthur looked as though someone had just told him Armani were no longer making suits. "The _throes of passion_!"  
"Well lets face it darling, some of those notes you sent me were rather forward. I mean I'm all for public displays of affection but really! On Cobb's _desk!_ He keeps pictures of his children there!"

Cobb's squint deepened. In Japan a sinkhole opened up in the middle of a crowded market place, one watermelon vender was never seen again.

When Saito found out a week later he was appalled at the unexplained damage to one of his assets. Not the melon cart. Japan.  
Arthur had had enough. He unleashed what he hoped was a frighteningly intelligent and threatening response, one that would silence Eames's intolerable little jibes for good, sending the forger running for the hills and leaving the rest of the team in awe of his astonishing repartee.

It sounded remarkably like: "pssh! Ckha? Tchuh!"  
Eames winked. "I bet you say that to all the boys."

Arthur let out a snarl of pure frustration "You know what! That's it. I give up!" He grabbed the larger man and pulled his face to within a hair's breadth of his own, his fists grasping the collar of his typically hideous shirt with enough force to tear the fabric (it was no great loss. today's choice vaguely resembled an optical illusion Arthur had seen in a book once. He hadn't liked it.)

"This was the first relaxing day I've had in months, and then you come flouncing in with your stupid grin and your smug little British pet names and ruin it! Now I'm going out for a coffee and if you're still within 5 meters of my desk by the time I get back I'm tipping it down your pants! How's that for forward!" And in a final storm of aggravated bureaucracy and finely quaffed hair he was gone.

The team remained in silence for several minutes, each trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

Ariadne wondered whether what she had just witnessed was due to a build up of unalleviated sexual tension between the pair. If so, Yusuf owed her 5 dollars.

Yusuf speculated as to the possibilities of bottling Arthur's rage for use in one of his compounds (If Severus Snape could do it, why not him). He then searched for a camera to capture the look of surprise on Eames's face. While doing so a stray though crossed his mind:  
"shit. I think I owe Ariadne 5 dollars"

Eames was trying to figure out the exact point at which Arthur had gone over the edge, and why exactly he was finding it so bloody attractive.

Cobb's expression changed from one of annoyance, to confusion, to concern. They all looked exactly the same.

In the end it was Saito who spoke first, cutting through the silence with a voice as soft as rainwater and smooth as melted chocolate, later the team would hear that voice in their nightmares.  
"Mr. Eames?"  
The forger snapped out of his reverie, chills running down his spine as he turned to face the smiling assassin.  
"Yes?"  
"I do hope you haven't broken my point man beyond repair, Mr. Eames. I should hate to lose two members of my team in one day. Besides, forgers really are thin on the ground at the moment; I expect it would take me almost ten minutes to locate a new one.

-

author's notes: YAY! you read this far! hope you enjoyed the fic, and hopefully the next part will be up soon :)


	2. Notes pt1

WOW! this chapter took far too long to get up here (due to a combination of mac-fails and, mostly, me-fails) but before i begin, a few words for my glorious reviewers! who make my heart swell to 5 times as big! i don't care if that's dangerous, its a happy state to be in :D  
oodles-of-noodles: first of all, your name. EPIC! it made both me and my bestest friend/stalker giggle like a pair of 5 year olds! i did feel slightly cruel making poor artie snap like that, but im sure he'll find someone to give him a nice soothing back rub *cough*EAMES*cough*  
BULBASAUURRRRRR: *gorges self on cookies* why thank you oh mysterious and mighty lord of the pokemon! i do indeed plan to relieve at least some of the tension dans chapter 3 (how could i disobey my grass-type king) wouldn't want arthur to explode now would we, he's make a terrible mess of another of saito's assets. (p.s, you may just be my new favourite person ever for that brilliant review...dont tell lollymc)  
anonymous:come out of the woodwork you darling thing! i shall continue for you!  
penulis: i dont think anyone realises the true glory that is saito until they stumble upon this community, i had to build a tiny mental shrine to him after reading my first few "GEN - saito" fics! and thank you thank yoooou for your lovely comments :) i was really worried about this fic before hand, didnt think id be able to get the characters right AT ALL!  
LadybugNixie: im not sure we can call them expressions...maybe Cobb should take to wearing a variety of masks that better express his emotions, if only to save innocent venders around the world. And Saito is a BAMF without any assistance, but hopefully Arthur can save him the (minor) hassle of having to find a new point man

and now! on with the fic!

chapter 2 - In which a note is received, and coffee is not violated

* * *

15 minutes after the outburst Arthur stood frozen at the top of the stairs, armed with nothing but a freshly renewed eye-roll and a triple shot, non-fat, sugar-free, 2 vanilla, white chocolate, white coffee mocha. Venti.  
He breathed deeply in and out, mentally steeling himself for the inevitable bedlam that would follow his opening the door. A particularly astute architect he had once worked with, back when his career in extraction had barely begun, had taught him that in times of extreme stress he should he should visualise himself in a place far removed from any possible source of anxiety, count until all he was aware of was his breathing and the steady flow of numbers, then bring himself slowly back into reality - ready to face whatever was causing his tension.  
When that failed, he bought a suit.  
(Since the first time he met Eames, Arthur had bought _a lot _of suits.)

The fact that the warehouse was currently so quiet he could hear the seagulls landing on its roof did nothing to calm his nerves. Clearly Eames had just invented some new, silent form of anarchy. Perhaps it involved gags - the forger was certainly vulgar enough to consider it. Perhaps ,Arthur shuddered at the thought, perhaps Eames had touched his _desk! _Arthur could see it clearly, his files scattered around the tabletop in a filthy haphazard manner, one that would certainly pay no regards to any conventional system of organisation whatsoever! no doubt his meticulously labelled and dimensioned photographs of the marks childhood home been placed jauntily alongside the cleaning rota of his office in soho! The bimonthly company stock reviews lost amongst details of the champion racehorse Mrs mark had attempted to purchase last year.  
(she had lost out to an anonymous bidder, who had paid 15 million dollars for 'the seattle mining co.' before vanishing back into oblivion. No matter how hard he tried, Arthur had been unable to find a single shred of information about this mysterious figure. He was 95% certain it was Saito.)  
The world swam before his eyes as Arthur couldn't help but picture the depravities that could be befalling his beloved colour-coding system at that very moment. Unable to take the suspense any longer, Arthur pushed open the door.

* * *

something was not right.  
where was the unavoidable mind-destroying chaos? why wasn't the furniture nailed to the ceiling? why was no-one's hair pink? Sure he still had the usual feeling of impending and embarrassing doom, but if anything that seemed to be coming from Saito's corner. Maybe, for once in his life, Eames had decided to be the bigger man.

Relieved, but still maintaining a certain amount of trepidation, Arthur headed back towards his desk, coffee held at the ready in the event that Eames attempted some kind of surprise attack.  
Last week had seen the creation of the 'Team Friendship Fest' or, to be more precise, the 'Lets-see-who-can-surprise-hug-Arthur-for-the-longest-before-being-punched-in-the-face Fest'  
(Eames's prospects for victory had looked good, until he developed both the counter-productive habit of yelling absurd things like "surprise man-love" when about to strike, and a penchant for nibbling on Arthur's ear during his self proclaimed 'bonding hugs', whereupon he would be quickly removed with a swift elbow to an area far lower, and far more painful, than the face.)

Then he saw it. Something had indeed infiltrated his precious desk-space. The neon-green monstrosity was lying just to the left of the mornings work, smack bang in the middle of stationary village. His vision blurred as he drew nearer to the interloper, which seemed almost to taunt him from its resting place between Biro Boulevard and the sellotape tree (his own genius invention – the stickier the tape, the higher up the tree, made out of cardboard by Ariadne, it went)

Practically shaking with disgust he picked up the post it note, instantly recognizing the handwriting of what was definitely becoming his _least_ favorite (soon to be disemboweled) forger.  
As he read it through Arthur's face displayed the kind of emotional changes mere mortals can only dream of. Cobb could only squint on in amazement.  
Later he would try to imitate some of the expressions seen on his point man's face that day, the evening news reported an outbreak of minor earthquakes in the surrounding area, a global economy drop of 0.13% and the reoccurrence of 6 out of the 10 plagues of Egypt. Cobb saw this as progress.

(What the news did not report was the sudden and rather violent materialization of a mildly annoyed Japanese watermelon vender in a small flat in Islington. But it happened. Trust me.)

* * *

The note read as follows:

Mr Eames,  
I am writing to apologeyes for my unecspected, and entirely uncalled for outberst erlier this afternoon. I am sorry if I have afended you, I can offer no ecsplanation for my acshuns, except for the fact that I reesently bought a new stick, which has of corse been plaiced up my ass. I have not had time to get yused to it, and unfortunatly it is so high up that I beleeve it may be affecting my brain.  
My previus notes should have made my feelings for you clear, and I hope what I sed did not lower your apinion of me.  
yours, Arther  
(please note the correct spelling of my name, I even checked with Yoosuf to make sure I got it right)

This meant two things.  
1) Eames was about to discover a myriad of new and exciting forms of pain. Right after Arthur enrolled him in a Basic English class  
2) He needed to have a serious chat with Yusuf. Not only had the chemist willingly gone along with a plan that involved defiling Arthur's workspace, he may also have undone years worth of attempts to get Eames to spell his name right.

Glad that he had practiced his beloved eye-roll on the way over, Arthur slipped into his most determined "I have several degrees in Badass-osity and right now Im going to be employing them all to kick your ass" face, and set off for a word with his chemist.

* * *

PHOOO! that chapter took far to long to write...and pretty much nothing happened. its main use is as a stepping stone to chapter three, in which ALL SHALL BE RESOLVED! and which will take far less time to write as i've already planned it ;)  
it will also feature far more Eames/Arthur dialogue for my beloved sMoKa (sorry there wasn't any in this one :( but there was a note! hopefully that makes up for it a bit)  
there will also be mild slash (I fail at smut, its due to my innate innocence *feigns innocent face*) warning in advance for any non-slash fans out there!  
also, maneh maneh cookies & cream ice cream for anyone who can identify the origin of stationary village - which sadly, i do not own. woe is me :'(  
reviews win surprise man-love from Eames, ear-nibble optional.


	3. Notes pt2 edit

Authors notes: SORRY FOR THE REPOST! my formatting was a massive fail-pie! I'll just slink off into my pit of despair now :'(  
in all honesty, i intended this to be the last chapter. but its just got so looooong, I blame Eames and his compulsion for note writing :( also im now finding myself gravitating towards the idea of writing a sequel instead of my planned good omens fic, mainly because im afraid of what saito will do if I try to escape 0_o  
but enough of my procrastinating! TO THE REVIEW-MOBILE!  
azure-lupis: thank you! i do hope your keyboard recovers :/ apologise to it for me in true, dramatic Eames fashion  
What.: not so much Cobb here I'm afraid, but his incessant nagging away in my head has earned him a whole half-chapter next time, hopefully that makes up for it  
OceanTiger13: XD you have NO idea how scared i was of attempting to write these characters, and I gladly present the return of the bet (also, I was reading through your list of fandoms like the filthy profile-voyeur that I am. and WOW. just WOW! GO, LOTR, Death Note, SGA, Harry Potter, Les Mis, PotC ...literally just all of them are epic! that could easily be my own "things that i love list" and, if you havent found it already, i'm forced to recommend AsheRhyder's webcomic series "Roommates" on devianart)  
Akkalia:...Ive been discovered! *flings self from window* i love that show more than should be possible, and have always been strangely affected by the tragic story of the melon-vender (will he ever manage to sell a melon! how will he reconstruct his stall this time!)  
BULBASAUUUUR: YOU'RE BACK! i was slightly ascared my barrage of love would cause you to back away slowly and not return. *clutches belleh* so many...cookies...Oh the doughy goodness! where's nurse joy when I need her! I am slightly tempted (read: verging on desperate) to write up either the team-love-fest or the pink incident as one shots, so I'm glad you like them :D and of course you know of the boosh ;) thought you couldn't become a more epic reviewer then BOOM in with the reference understanding :P *grumbles* you're lucky i had a persim berry on me, or i could have hurt myself in my confusion! you should be ashamed! and now, i deliver my benevolent lord the newest chapter  
oodles: WHY HELLO THERE MY DEAR! i love noodles too, its a trait all the best people share ;) i fear Cobb may never cease his emotion attempts, but maybe Yusuf could develop some kind of seismometer (is that what you call the earthquake detecty things?) to try and warn the world when they're about to strike. My stalker is one miss 'lolly-mc' i'd get rid of her, but she has a fridge well stocked with ben & jerry's so she has her uses ;) stationary village is from a wonderfully abstract british show called The Mighty Boosh (i think the actual clip is on youtube) and dont worry, ill send eames over to do something about that stitch of yours  
realityfling18: :D Thank You! it makes me SOOOOO happy that people like my first fic :) i get a little warm fuzzy feeling in ma bones!  
Penulis: it is you madam who are fabulous! apparently saito agreed that more of him was needed, as he spent the last few nights rampaging around the empty space between my temples waving his banner until I gave him a whole section of this chapter, he really does know how to get his way :P  
FiferRose: two reviews at once! marry me please? you made my day! Cobb will return in the next chapter for more face-orientated antics, but i felt the world deserved a bit of a rest, at least for one chapter. and who would turn down his man love! he's a poorly-dressed beast of a man! and having profile-stalked you (i really must end that habit. its more than a tiny bit creepy) i must say. ICON WIN MUCH! and also destiel! so CUTE! its actually the reason i began watching the show (other than crowley, because he's just too good to be true) if you love supernatural you should check out good omens (if you havent already) its one of the books the show was based on and features crowley as the main character in a veeeeeeeeeerrry slash-goggly relationship with an angel (which i'm hoping may be your cup of slash tea)  
SnOrK: *weeps copiously* oh keyboard sanitisers guild, can you ever forgive me! I offer up this chapter in penitence! now if you'll excuse me I'm off to hide amongst the bushes of the countryside, those sanitisers are deadly (p.s you live in England - well then good sir! I hope you do the country of Eames proud, I myself strive everyday to honour him in some small way - par example regular sneak hugs of my wonderfully uptight friend (he hasnt seen inception - the charlotan! or he'd realise just how much of an arthur he is))  
Allehandra: *resuscitates* nooooooooo dont die! i need lovely reviews like that one to live! Good thing i went to shinigami camp over the summer! my necromancerial skills know no bounds! :D hopefully i managed to get more of what you like in this chapter, no Cobb though :( hope you dont take a leaf out of Fischer Seniors book and be dissapointed

AND ON WITH THE CHAPTER!  
chapter 3: In which Arthur is a sexist pig, and Ariadne wants her money now!

* * *

When Arthur reached Yusuf he was surprised to find him already deep in conversation with Ariadne, what was even stranger was that he currently seemed to be afraid of her, and that Arthur could swear he heard the words "want my money" and "severe consequences" coming from the young architect's mouth. Surely not?  
He moved closer. Another snippet of conversation drifted towards him.  
"Hey, Yusuf, you ever wonder what would happen if I just….broke your fingers?"  
What the hell was going on here! Arthur needed to find out, and he needed to do so now!  
"What the hell is going on here?"  
"Oh, Hi!" chirped the architect, brightening visibly "nothing much, just a playful little wager between friends, Yusuf here owes me a little bit of money – which he's going to give me in full. Soon. Right Yusuf?"  
She smiled the kind of smile that appeared on the faces of vengeful goddesses, as ancient cities burned.  
"Wager, what kind of wager?"  
Ariadne blushed. This made Arthur relax slightly, feeling that a blush was a far more normal and acceptable expression to see on a young woman's face than one of ancient mythological redemption. Sexist pig.  
"OH, nothing, nothing. Just your average football wager –you know, who's gonna score, who's gonna get injured, that sort of thing. Just a nice, friendly – oh! Is that the time, well, I'd better be going!"  
Arthur had never seen her move so fast. He turned suspicious eyes on the currently squirming chemist.  
Yusuf was saying nothing.  
"Well? Is there something you wanted, or can I get back to my very important job of perfecting the sedative and avoiding Ariadne for the rest of my life?"

Arthur remembered exactly what he had wanted with the chemist, and felt the anger flooding back into his veins.  
"Yes, actually, there is something I want." He slipped into his most potent badass glare, the one that had seen many a hardened criminal whimpering in fear.

"I want to know why exactly you thought it was a good idea to assist our child of a forger in what he no doubt thought was an incredibly witty and entertaining practical joke, when you knew full well that it was directed against myself? And, for that matter, why you then went on to make a rather substandard attempt at being some kind of double-agent and trick said forger as well. Not that I have anything against you deceiving Eames, by all means deceive to your hearts content. Just be aware that you're lucky I found you first, as his ways of dealing with betrayal are rather less formal than mine."  
(Arthur resisted the urge to add "capiche?" for good measure. Not because he couldn't make it work, he just felt it would be overly flamboyant)  
He folded his arms and awaited Yusuf's response. He'd seen just about every kind of reaction to being found out over the years, and was interested to see which the chemist would choose: would he vault over the stolen lab bench in a last-ditch attempt at freedom, would he break down in tears and beg for forgiveness?

"…what?"  
Arthur blinked. This was one response he had not expected.  
"what do mean 'what'?"  
"I mean: 'what?' I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

The look on the bearded man's face was not one of poorly concealed guilt, more one of 'why the hell are all these freakish people being so mean to me today'  
(his train of thought continued along the lines of: 'is it my beard? I know people find them hard to trust but _really, _this is taking things a bit far. My driving then? – here he had to stop, as the thought of anyone not appreciating his driving was so utterly ridiculous it caused most of his brain functions to cease)

"You honestly don't know?"  
"Honestly? No."  
Arthur rolled his eyes (well, he had been practicing all afternoon, it seemed a waste to let them remain motionless for so long)  
"Of course you don't, I should have realised earlier that you weren't involved. This has Eames written all over it."  
Something sparked in the chemist's memory as he turned to leave.  
"Wait just a moment! I did see Eames earlier now that I think about it, he gave me this note to give to you if you got back before him. In fact, I think he mentioned you'd be all riled up about something too, funny that"  
He began to rummage through the various stacks of paperwork strewn waywardly across the worktop – disrupting any semblance of order that remained in the process. Arthur had to look away to avoid collapsing on the spot at this complete and utter disregard for the proper principles of orderliness. Eventually a single piece of unevenly folded, distinctly greasy looking paper was produced. He took it with disgust, being careful to avoid contact with the skin wherever possible, god only knows how many germs could be propagating upon the chemist's desk at that very moment.

(He tried to distract himself from the growing nausea developing as he began to imagine that he could actually see every single germ indivually, undulating audaciously at him from between various beakers. Unfortunately the only alternative pathway from 'propagating on the desk' that his brain could currently produce was directly linked to Eames's earlier references to Cobb's desk, and the decidedly tempt-disgusting! Possibilities it offered)

Fighting the urge to blush like a teenage girl (- more sexism. Disgusting isn't it.) He snatched the note from the decidedly confused chemist, turned his back, and began to read.

My Deerest Arther,  
I am pleesed to see you regret your crule words this afternune, and feel I shud say that nothing you can do could possibly lower my apinion of you.  
Arfter you left I was left with nothing but a desyre to see you that flusterred agen (you were adoorabel love) though prefrebly for a different reason ;)  
I hope you will find me upon my retern, when I will be ready to aksept your apology.  
with love, your Darling Eames.

p.s: It just so hapens that I am kwalified in full-body massage. Should I maik an apointment so we can sort out some of that tenshun?

Less than a second after he finished reading, the note was no more than a crumpled pulp in his hand. He was going to_ kill _that man.

* * *

Come to think of it, where was Eames? Arthur hadn't seen him since he'd got back from the coffee bar nearly 10 minutes ago. No wonder he'd felt a distinct lack of his usual desire to commit slow and painful murder. Well, not until a few seconds ago anyway. The second note had been the last straw, Arthur didn't care how cleverly Eames had hidden himself, he would find him. And when he did the poor bastard wouldn't know what hit him.

Arthur had spent the last three years thinking up colourful and exciting ways of "dealing" with the forger, including some that would have made Jack the Ripper seem terribly dull and unoriginal. (Also including some, only rearing their unwelcome heads when he was _extremely _drunk, that involved rather less handguns and pliers and rather more dimly-lit hotel rooms and cheap champagne. But he barely remembered these. In fact he didn't remember them at all. He'd recognized them instantly for the drink-addled delusions they were and driven them from his mind. Definitely no recollection of them. Nope. None. And he _certainly _was not going over the intricacies of one particularly interesting idea at this very moment _thank you very much! _– because that would be disgusting, just like the forger himself, completely and utterly mind-bogglingly se-disgusting!... ... ...right.)

With his mind set on securing Eames's immediate, and preferably agonising demise all that was left was to figure out where he'd gone. The only problem being that he had no idea whatsoever how to do so. Arthur sighed. What he needed right now was someone who new absolutely everything happening at every point on the globe, who was doing it, why, and exactly how much money could be gained by calmly informing said person that you "knew what they did last summer" – albeit in a slightly less melodramatic tone. But where on earth was he supposed to find someone like that?

* * *

Saito could tell that Arthur was approaching without needing to look up, and judging by the aura of determination coming off him with about the same force as a minor tsunami, it was going to take more than his usual tactic of pointedly ignoring anyone who attempted a conversation to convince the seething point man to leave. With a sense of something akin to weariness he prepared himself for what was sure to be nothing but another animated rant about their forger.  
(I say akin to weariness because, as you may well know, Saito regularly feels emotions far deeper and more meaningful than the majority of lesser beings could even imagine. Weariness is simply the closest emotion to what he was experiencing that exists on the human spectrum. The closest on the Cobb scale would probably be Squint no.5: detached, with a hint of displeasure – or, as everyone else knew it, "that weird squint thing Cobb does when he tries to express emotion")

'_honestly'_ he thought _'the sooner those two get over this ridiculous pig-tail pulling and realise that, heaven forbid, they actually like each other, the sooner I might actually be able to get back to what is obviously the less important task of running an international corporation.'  
_

Arthur was getting closer now. Saito supposed that since Arthur _was_ the best in the world at what he did, and since this job held the potential to make his company a global superpower (well, _more _of a global superpower) he should make sure that at least some part of him was paying attention. After a moments contemplation, he decided his right eyebrow would suffice.

"Where's Eames? I need to teach that bastard a lesson. Now!"  
The eyebrow raised slightly.  
"What do you mean you don't know! You know everything! You're just lying to me on purpose to protect him aren't you? I knew it! The entire team's been taken in by his little innocent act and his '_english charms'_!" (The last two words were said in the same way most people would say "parasitic louse" or "debilitating bowel illness".)  
The eyebrow drew into a half-frown.  
"All right! Fine! There's no need to be rude about it! I'm sorry I accused you of being a liar, now if you could just tell me where he is, I'll be out of your hair"  
The eyebrow curved down menacingly.  
"What do you mean NO! I guess I was right about you. You're just another sheep like the rest of them. Sheep!"  
A tiny wrinkle appeared between the eyebrow and the corner of the eye.  
"WHAT! You take that back! My Grandmother was a saint!"  
The eyebrow quirked in defiance.  
"Oh really! …Well you're a…... … …Well I guess that's just 'cause... Well! ... Well!... That's not very nice is it!"  
The eyebrow was motionless.  
"You know what, I don't have to stand here and take this from you. If you wont tell me, I'll just have find out from someone else."  
Most people believe such things are impossible, but; as the point man stormed off towards Cobb in his second tantrum of the day, the eyebrow couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

...so yeah. its not quite finished yet *covers head with arms* IM SORRY! i fully intended to resolve everything this chapter, but then Saito minced dazzlingly into my subconscious and demanded to be included, so then Cobb had to have his own chapter or it would be unfair and OCD!arthur wanted a piece of the action, and you can imagine how things escalated from there.  
so essentially i am far too easily influenced by my mental representations of the team *glares at them* thanks guys.  
but I hope you liked the (now penultimate) chapter anyway, and I assure you that the lack of eamesy goodness will be entirely remedied

reviews get a lesson in the language of the eyebrows from saito!  
xxx


	4. Resolution pt1

WOOOH! after a week of laptop confiscation (raise your hand if your father's a douchebag) chapter 4 is FINALLY up! tis a bit different to my usual, but I hope you still enjoy :D  
now on to my (hopefully)ever-present review replies!  
azure-lupis: saito's eyebrows can say enpugh in any situation! they are social chameleons! (cept that right one, he can be a bit of a you know what when he wants to be)  
FiferRose: Then we shall be wed! (providing you also dont mind my 'conference sessions' with JGL, we can just schedule them to occur at the same time! I'll see if I cant make that paragraph happen, but I warn you, there may be some slight Eames whump in the next chapter (but he gets arthur so he has NO right to complain)  
Allehandra: THANKING YOU! :D this chapter gets a bit less humour and a bit more fluff towards the end, but poor Cobb just gets mockery, so hopefully that turns out at least slightly funneh  
melccb: new reviewer! *does the review dance* I'm glad you liked it my dear ;) i was no way expecting so many people to read this fic, so wonderful people like you make _my_ day! (and I cant help it. he may be a smexy man-beast. but i just find the beard squicky)  
shembre: XD YOU SIRRAH ARE EXCELLENT! i get really worried that my writing style is too immature for this fandom, so to have someone actually complement my writing itself, as well as the fic makes me feel just about as high as a kite!  
IVYSAUR: GOODNESS ME! i do hope you made sure you were level 16 first, or there could be severe complications. Those filtheh pokemon, send them to daycare to rteach them a lesson. (you'd never catch things like that going on in MY brain...*cough*) I may have to check with Fifer about the half-breed proposition, but I'm sure she wont mind sharing ;)  
tanya13: then HERE is more for you at once! hope you like it sonnymajimeny!  
WhatArebel: THAT ALONE IS ENOUGH! the mere fact that you continue to read is enough for me ;) you could review saying "i expected more. I are disappoint" and i would still adore thee  
Oodlesofnoodles:oodles my dearest my darling my sunbeam! i shall send arthur to scowl at any germs that dare undulate at you! that'll sort them out! *gobbles up sweets* NOM! all these culinary reviews will fatten me up, but I just cant resist them!  
mollie1994: GO SEE INCEPTION FOOL! i demand it now!you really dont know what you're missing, but you read my story anyway! and therefore I love you :P

whats that you say? there's a chapter ahead? a gateway to fluff you say? well then. better get on with it hadn't we!

chapter 4: In which the unthinkable occurs, and Yusuf is a freak (big surprise)

* * *

Cobb was smiling.  
Cobb. Was smiling.  
There was a smile on his face.  
He was using 15 muscles less than it takes to frown.  
He was contorting his facial structure in order to show an emotion that was most likely joy.  
He was taking a day trip to upside-down-frown-town.

Nope, Arthur thought. however you put it, it just sounded...well...wrong! Everyone knew Cobb had fallen from the glee tree at a very young age (and managed to avoid being hit by a single branch in the process) so to see him now, grin stretching practically to his poorly managed fringe, was possibly the most unnatural thing Arthur had ever seen (and he'd once taken part in an extraction where all of the projections were clowns, which is about as freakish as you can get. He knew for a fact that Ariadne had never been able to visit a circus again)  
Deciding that quite frankly he'd dealt with enough weirdness today to last him a lifetime Arthur decided to do the only sensible thing in the current situation- he drew his shoulders back, forced his features into what he hoped was a neutral expression (it was. if his expressions had to be placed on the dulux colour scale it would have come somewhere between 'modest beige' and 'startled nutmeg', the sort of colour grandfathers are partial to when picking out a new cushion for the armchair.) walked calmly towards the extractor and, most importantly, attempted not to stare.

If Cobb was at all perturbed by Arthur disturbing his work, he didn't show it. In fact he didn't move a muscle as the Point Man's shadow fell across his desk, just smiled up at him bemusedly.  
Arthur coughed uncertainly, there really was something _very _odd going on here. He hadn't seen a smile on his friend's face since before Mal died, and even then it had been more of a stylised grimace. But he was damned if he was going to let a smile stop him from getting his revenge. Steeling his nerves against the strange creature that had evidently eaten Cobb, and then sat down and finished his paperwork, he took the plunge.

"I'm looking for Eames, have you seen him today?"  
Cobb grinned inanely at him. "Of course. Can't you tell?"  
This was really too much. First Ariadne, then Saito, now Cobb too, his whole team was acting as though they'd just escaped from some kind of freak show.  
(Little did he know that 5 years ago, Yusuf actually _had_ escaped from a freak show. As a struggling chemistry student in Mombasa, he had been willing to do almost anything to get by, so when his lab partner casually informed him that 'The Brothers Grim Sideshow' was in town he had whipped up a concoction that turned his skin a colour he liked to think of as 'dark forest turquoise' and set off to re-invent himself as "Yusuf-the lizard-man". His plan had worked like a charm until one night the effects of his lotion wore off in the middle of a performance. Luckily the audience failed to notice the difference.  
Instead of remarks on his freakish complexion, he was instead greeted by comments such as "oooooh! look-at his beady little eyes! how disturbing", "his skin too, all horrible and flaky, he really _is_ a lizard-man!" and, of course "mummy! what's that furry thing on his face? it scares me!"  
While the sideshow had been willing to keep him - he had been the star attraction that night- his self-esteem had been so irrevocably damaged that not even an 8 night drinking spree in the bars of johannesburg was enough to make him forget.)  
"No Dom. Unsurprisingly I can't just look inside your brain and somehow figure out that you saw him today. So will you please stop beaming at me in that ridiculous manner and tell me where he is?"  
The smile didn't so much as falter. "What's got you in such a bad mood?"  
"Oh nothing, just the fact that the _asshole _of a forger you hired seems to be determined to make my life miserable without even needing to be in the room! that and Saito's eyebrow was a complete bitch to me just now.  
The beast in Cobb's chair paused. "Which one?"  
"The right one"  
The smile was if anything more of a simper now. "You shouldn't be so hard on him you know. He's been having a tough time lately, yesterday he was singed by one of Yusuf's experiments, he's lucky he wasn't seriously burned."  
Arthur sighed. "You know what, I'm just gonna find him myself. Because you're clearly not going to help me, and no-one else in this godforsaken place has a clue where he is! I'll see you when I get back."  
He prepared his sulk glands for the final exertion of the day, but just as he was reaching maximum strop capacity a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards the desk.  
"Aren't you forgetting something?"  
Arthur's eyes were accusing now. "Like What Exactly?"  
"like the note. maybe?"  
"What no-...oh."  
He wasn't entirely sure how he'd failed to notice that Cobb's smile had been stuck to his forehead with cello-tape (which he recognised instantly as one of the stickiest leaves on his tree, he'd been saving it for a particularly accomplished file on possible connections between the marks elderly maid and the british secret service) or indeed the fact that it wasn't so much a smile at all, more a pink piece of paper with a happy face scribbled crudely across it with what looked suspiciously like magic marker. He'd merely thought Cobb was looking particularly flushed this afternoon. Not to mention expressive.  
"Ah. That note."  
"Please tell me you noticed the note."  
"Of course i noticed the note!... ... ... ... how long has it been there again?"  
"Oh my GOD! you didn't notice the note! What am I to you! some kind of featureless balloon on a suit! How could you not notice that!"  
"I noticed it! I swear! I was just... playing a joke, thats all! I admit it, it wasn't funny. So I'll uh, I'll just go read this over here now..."  
As he slowly peeled away the note to reveal the furiously squinting face beneath, he could have sworn he heard a million voices around the world crying out in anguish. This was in fact correct, as just over 1 million 3 hundred and 50 thousand 4 hundred and 42 people had just discovered that their favourite hat no longer suited them. At least 20 fishermen were left deeply troubled by the appearance of the lost continent of atlantis just off the coastline of Namibia. And of course, one unfortunate landlady returned to her small islington property to find nothing but broken furniture, and what appeared to be the remnants of a mid-sized cart full of watermelons. (now you may well be thinking "why is this so unfortunate? watermelons are a crisp and refreshing fruit easily turned into a less crisp but just as refreshing beverage. I myself would be happy to attain some such melons, eat my fill and sell the rest for surplus." Well. It saddens me to say that the poor elderly lady was in fact born with an extreme case of melonophobia - an illness that had haunted her since childhood- this new fruity catastrophe resulted in 5 more years of therapy.)  
This new squint was so deep Arthur was afraid that Cobb's face might implode upon itself and become a singularity. In a desperate attempt to avoid being pulled in to the ensuing vortex he edged back a good 3 metres before reading the final note. He had to be honest, it was not what he was expecting.

* * *

Darling,  
No doubt by now you have received my two previous notes, whilst I'm sure they will have only served to infuriate you further, I wanted to save the best for last.  
(I also needed to buy myself enough time to set up this rather intricate apology, but mainly it was the whole 'best-till-last' thing)  
I am truly sorry that my actions earlier today seem to have pushed you over the edge, but to be quite frank I think you've got off lightly.  
Dont get pissy now, let me explain.  
I've succeeded in making you lose your cool once, for perhaps a minute, after years of fastidiously planned shenanigans and carefully thought out jibes (wit like this doesn't just grow on trees you know.)  
You, however,have been driving me crazy since the moment we met, and seemingly without any effort at all.  
Thats why I've been acting like a bloody child for the past four years; not because I hate you, or because I have some kind of twisted desire to make your life hell, but because you're so damn perfect that doing so is just about the only way I can get you to pay me any attention at all!  
And, If I'm brutally honest, because I am - and always have been - just a little bit in love with you.  
Hope this goes some way towards making up for whatever it is that upset you today.  
yours, Eames.

* * *

Arthur had just about gotten over his shock enough to speak, mouth still hanging half-open with an as yet unasked question, when he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around him, and a rough - and definitely more than slightly nervous - voice came from just behind him, so close he could feel the air brushing softly against the back of his ear.

"Alright pet, you get my notes?"

* * *

HOOOH! cliffhanger! what happens next? who knows! (I do :P)  
this was bit fluffier than I actually intended it to be, hopefully you guys didnt mind :)

reviews get a juicy watermelon fresh drink :D (and two tickets to the side show - please not that its take your forger to a show week)


	5. Resolution pt2 The End

WOW! We've finally reached the end huh? And boy has it been a long time coming. Partly due to my own crippling inadequacies, partly due to the fact that sky movies has taken to showing a different Tom Hardy movie every night. DAMN YOU SKY!  
I would also like to apologise briefly for my use of capitals in the last chapter, which veered somewhere to the north of maverickism.  
But first: my FINAL (weeps) review responses:

tanya13: yyeeeaaah :P not quite as soon as planned unfortunately :/ tried to slip some humour into this one but their mainly small chocolatey humour chips in a pile of gooey man mush!  
FiferRose: to choose between them would be a crime! scheduled everyone meets there shall be! (i may have introduced a 10th world wonder in the form of JGLs lips, i feel they dont get enough credit, overshadowed as they are by Tom Hardy's plumptious love cushions. You other are MOST EXCELLENT! but how can i write you love notes to another *sniff* I have become greedy for your love!  
shembre: off to the slide show you go good sir! poor Yusuf, ive tried to give him a slightly less pitiful role in this chapter ;)  
Allehandra: i could never have allowed Cobb to actually smile now could I, who knows what kind of paradox that could create! DARN YOU! :P you noticed my plot device early you sneak-fiend! though Eames spelling is something to be remarked at ;)  
WhataRebel: you've been in all of them so far! its just that for some reason fanfiction doesnt tend to let me write your name :/ its censorship I say! I shall march on the queen! I've tried to break out of convention as best I can :P but I must say I'm a sucker for the slush! (but smutty anger sex is a no-no. I myself am but a sweet innocent cherub!) :L I'm glad you noticed the 'flushed' thing, it kind of got lost amongst the several large hams of that chapter  
Nathan: :L shhhh you! I almost got away with it there! Saito is damned awesome, he should be made ruler of a small country, or the world, either one would suit me really ;)  
BULBY: MY DARLING! I hid this in the only place i felt safe, close to my pokeheart *tears up* I shall not mention the tragedy, but I am always here with a comforting word and some rare candy if you need me :) Those darned dark types, always foiling my plans! i may have to write them some angst, its all they seem to respond to! I'd be careful where you use that new move though, it sounds pretty darn KICK-ASS! LeoDicapriHOE ... just...GAWD! I think i may have gone supernova when i saw that :L i want one noooooowwww and i shall gladly perch alongside him on thine mantelpiece, especially with that foine list of fellows for company! i went for sweetness, because sugar is my love! and like the fabled rodney mckay (stargate atlantis - my secret nerd love) I am allergic to lemon :/ this is soon yesno? please do not have wasted away!  
mosquito: dont break your face mon ami! they can take even longer to replace than a forger in this day and age! XD damn straight i shall treasure it! i always love it when I manage to make people laugh ( as opposed to the standard terrified chuckle and backing away) I've tried to sneak humour in here where possible, but that darned Eames kept barging in here and taking his love so seriously :P

now! without further ado! the final *sniff* chapter!

chapter 5: In which Yusuf is a slut, and Arthur gives knives to children

* * *

"Alright pet, you get my notes?"

Arthur hadn't moved for a good while now. In any other situation Eames would currently be rejoicing about the fact that his arms had remained wrapped around the Point Man's waist for well over a minute without him sustaining any major injuries, and that his chin had been allowed to come to rest gently on the smaller man's shoulder, so close that he could hear the faint whisper of each breath as it passed what was undoubtedly his favourite pair of lips in the world. Hell, one week ago he would probably have been prancing joyfully around the warehouse like a small child drunk on Mountain Dew and proclaiming that HE, EAMES was the new, unchallenged king of the team-love-fest, and anyone who dared to challenge his minute long wonder-hug could sod straight off thank-you-very-much!

Right now though, he was worried. He remembered all too well Saito's earlier threats, and was trying hard not to think about what would happen to him if Arthur had gone into some kind of automatic shutdown. One brief scan of the room was enough to convince Eames that he was in trouble. His little 'apology' had attracted the attention of the entire team. The entire team except Saito, that is. Their employer was still seated in exactly the same position he'd been in when the Forger had crept slowly into the room. There was only one subtle difference, a single lock of hair had fallen out of place, and was resting on the bridge of his nose, just covering part of his left eye. Eames barely suppressed a gulp. The torment that single lock was implying could make Stephen King reach for a bucket. He gathered his strength and silently prayed that Arthur had a reset button.

* * *

Arthur meanwhile was a little bit preoccupied. He was fully aware of the fact that the Forger's arms had been draped around his waist for far longer than should be acceptable, and that he really aught to be doing something about it, namely executing a sharp 180 degree turn and punching the smug bastard in the face. Unfortunately he was also extremely aware that he was rather more okay with it than he should be.  
And that it had been longer than he cared to admit since he'd been this close to someone willingly. (Eames had once asked him exactly how long it had been. For a split second he thought he'd seen a blush creep across those perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Then his attention was distracted by the ensuing kick to his 'manly pride' that left him limping for a week. It was worth it.)  
And that, underneath the usual distasteful odour of tobacco and cheap cologne, the Forger's clothes still carried the faintest echoes of incense and African spice. Eames smelt of exotic cities at night, of heat and excitement, of dust and sand and gold and star-filled desert skies. The smell made his blood boil.  
But most of all he was aware that Eames's head was positioned in such a way that if he were to lean back, relax into that comforting warmth and intoxicating scent, and tilt his own head just a fraction to the left, then the Forger's lips would come into contact with the corner of his mouth. Arthur wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

But he was not going to think about any of those things right now. Oh no. That way lay danger, amongst other things he didn't think he wanted to be dealing with just yet.

The note then? Arthur could think of at least 50 questions regarding the note that he'd quite like to hear the answers to sometime soon. Unfortunately most of them involved discussing the sentiments expressed in this most recent literary assault, and that road was every bit as dangerous as the rest.

Deciding that remaining silent and motionless for the rest of his life was not really a viable option Arthur opened his mouth to speak, paused for a while to prepare himself, and then asked the only 'safe' question remaining.  
"Eames?"  
"Yes pet?"  
"Since when can you spell?"

* * *

...  
"Since when can I spell?"  
"Yes, I'm intrigued."  
"Well, I was hoping for something more along the lines of 'OH MR EAMES! Your brutal honestly has ignited the flames of love within my heart, and they burn for you with the vigour of a thousand suns!' But I can work with this. As it happens I'm pretty gifted when it comes to the old spelling lark, even won a few prizes for it back in primary school, I mostly just pretend I cant to irk you."  
Arthur turned a full 180, locking his accusing gaze with the forgers own. (Unfortunately this failed to achieve its usual level of intimidation as he had forgotten to remove the hands from his waist, leaving him locked in a quasi-embrace that was far too awkward to address - and therefore impossible to escape from)  
"...You used a dictionary didn't you?"  
"Maybe. Cobb helped."

* * *

"Of course you did. I suspected this from the sta- wait. Cobb helped you?"  
"Yup. Bloody generous of him i thought."  
"Cobb. Dom Cobb. Has seen this?"  
"Well it was stuck to face for nearly 20 minutes, I'm don't think not seeing it was physically possible. Besides after I asked Yusuf and Ariadne he wouldn't shut up till I let him have a look - then of course Saito wanted in on the action..."  
Arthur was verging on apoplectic.  
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Is there anyone who doesn't know about this? I suppose you sent it to Fischer for spellchecking as well? Did Philippa and James provide the stationary?"  
(Little did he know that in fact Philippa had done just that. The bright pink card, bordered with valentines day style hearts and bearing a faint odour of roses, as well as the sparkly gel pens, had been her gift to the Forger last christmas. Arthur had not been invited, due to his propensity to give the children knives.)  
"I can't believe you would do this to me! I'll be a complete laughing stock! I'm never going to work in the Pointman business again! How do you expect me to show my face at the conventions now!" "Darling, please, I understand that you're angry, but don't you think you're missing the real issue here?"  
"The real issue? What do you mean?"  
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that I just confessed my love for you in front of the entire team, and now look like a total prat stood here waiting for some kind of response?"  
"Ah. That issue.." (Oh crap crap crap crappitty crap! So much for not going down that road. Play it cool Arthur, just play it cool.)  
"Well, no offence, but its not exactly a vast change from the usual is it? During most of our jobs together you profess your love on an almost daily basis - admittedly this was far more sentimental than your typical poorly spelt barrage of filth, but on the whole its not really all that different."  
"Even so, most people react a bit more strongly to love letters, you're acting as if you get them all the time!"  
A small, embarrassed cough sounded from somewhere behind them. A light blush had spread across Ariadne's face, and she had suddenly become fascinated by her own trainers.  
"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me!"  
"Actually no, I received Ariadne's note only this morning. It was rather sweet if I'm honest, not quite as impassioned as Saito's, but still lovely to read."  
"SAITO'S?"  
"He offered me my own airline and a lakeside mansion in Geneva, an offer I was sorely tempted to accept. Now, Yusuf's letter, that _was_ a surprise - never knew he had it in him to be quite so forward! But the heat-sensitive invisible ink... nice touch."  
He shot Yusuf an approving nod, receiving a far too suggestive wink in return.  
Eames meanwhile had gone a rather interesting shade of green. Unwinding himself slowly from the Pointman he shot the Chemist a withering look - that somehow managed to perfectly convey the sentiment 'et tu? Yusuf?'. A self-satisfied shrug was the only reply.

"Well, I had no idea I was being quite so... unoriginal." Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen the Forger seem so crushed, he looked deflated, like a Teddy Bear with all it's stuffing taken out. It was almost painful to watch.  
"I guess I'll just have to find another way of getting through to you, has anyone tried flowers recently?"  
"Yes." Come to think of it. It was painful. It hurt to see Eames like this, it felt like something was tearing away at his insides. How odd. Normally he'd jump at the chance to make the other man feel small, now he just wanted to somehow make it be over. Perhaps he should try to be reassuring?  
"Don't be upset about it. It's not that your approach was unoriginal, it just...wasn't unique?" Well. That seemed to have gone down about as well as a ton of rectangular building materials. If anything he looked more heartbroken now than before, and seemed to be edging slowly towards the door, proverbial tail between his legs.

Right. So, comforting. How exactly did one go about that then? He vaguely remembered Cobb saying something about putting James to bed with a glass of warm milk, but milk didn't seem to making itself readily available and the thought of leading Eames towards a bed was not a particularly safe one right now.

So, only one option left then really.

...

Well shit.

* * *

"Eames."

The voice was softer than he had ever heard it before, and there was something different in it - something only previously encountered during half-remembered nights of drunken stupor among crowds of unfamiliar faces. It was something found in the faint whispers smiled into his neck as he wrapped the Pointman (_his_ Pointman) up in his duvet on the night of Mal's funeral. He had slept on the floor than night - less than a second away, just in case he was needed.

Before he had the chance to look behind and see just what had prompted this rare display of affection a slender hand had cupped itself around his jaw, tilting his face downwards, and that perfect pair of lips had _finally _met his own.

It was short, chaste, and everything he had ever imagined it would be. Arthur's mouth relaxed into his as he returned the kiss, gently at first, but with rapidly growing vigour. Eames could have sworn he heard someone moan faintly, but whether it was Arthur or himself he would never be able to work out. The Pointmans lips parted a fraction of an inch, and his breath flowed between them like electricity. One thumb gently stroked the stubble along the forger's jaw, and then it was over.

He opened his eyes slowly, reaching for his totem, just to _absolutely sure _this wasn't a dream, and saw the single most beautiful smile in the world.

"Just because it wasn't original, doesn't mean I didn't like it."

* * *

Eames's face lit up like the fourth of July, and a tiny part of Arthur thought that maybe, just _maybe _this whole escapade had been somehow worth it.

"I meant every word you know. I've never lied to you, not about that."

"I know you did. And you know, it was my favourite letter. Very….. poetic."

The Forger unleashed his trademark Cheshire cat grin, the one that made women want to marry him and men want to punch him in the face.  
"Well of course! We Eameses are descended from the bard himself I'll have you know! We don't go producing just any tatty old rubbish!"

Then, after _actually_ sticking his tongue out at the rest of the team, who were stoically pretending not to look (with the exception of Ariadne, who had somehow sprouted a camera) he returned to his usual prattishness with a vengeance.

The man really is a child, thought Arthur. But he couldn't quite stop the corners of his mouth rising a fraction of an inch, as Eames proceded to compare him to a summer's day.

* * *

AAAND thats it :)  
hope you guys like it, Im gonna miss you guys and your lovely reviews. And, quite frankly this fic :( i have other 'projects' planned but this was my first and most cherished little 1-shot turned 5-shot

as always reviews are my caffeine. and just this once! reviewers get their very own Tom Hardy!

XOXOXOOXOXOXOOXO


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